Hating Sky High
by deadlybeautiful
Summary: Factor in fear, a glimpse of the future, and things might just go up in smoke.
1. Welcome to Hell

**Just an idea that's been on my mind.**

**I don't own Sky High.**

**Read, Review, and Enjoy.**

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It wasn't that I didn't like flying metal deathtraps, but nothing, and I mean nothing, was getting me in a good mood today, not even roller-coaster-like bus rides. And, nothing will ever make me like my new school or the fact that I was headed there. Nothing.

God, I hate my crappy-ass life.

Super school, really? I'm a super? That's crazy. I'm just the funny girl with weird friends, how could _I_ be a super?

Sky High. I always knew I wasn't normal, but hell, this is insane.

If it wasn't for my temper I wouldn't be on a stupid flying bus headed to nowhere in the middle of the freaking sky. Stupid powers, stupid Anderson. This was all his fault; if he wouldn't have pissed me off, I would still be going to a normal school with a normal life and joking in the hallway with my friends. But no, I'm a super going to super school.

God hates me, he really does.

My music on my MP3 player isn't loud enough to drown out the freshman's screams as we're launched off the bridge. I'm not worried since I knew this was coming. Powers had made it very clear that she wanted to blend me into the junior class seamlessly, thus I had been to the school before. Not often were there supers with my caliber of powers. Damn, I am a freak among freaks.

"_There are only seven or so students in the student body that exhibit your degree of power, Charlotte. You'll make a fine hero someday. You'll make fine hero, indeed." _

That is not going to happen; I will tell you that. The only reason I am going to this freaking school is to get the police off my back. Honestly, I had not meant to send the kid to the insane asylum. It is not my fault I have freaky powers and Anderson has a weak state of mind.

We landed and I waited for the entire freshman to hustle off the bus before strolling down the aisle and into hell itself.

Dante himself wouldn't have been prepared for Sky High. Talk about culture shock, and they said Europe was bad, try super school.

Flying kids, gossiping girls, people that can shoot lasers out of their eyes, laughing, smiling, sun, and cheer, talk about crazy. Yeah, just like any school anywhere. This was like the set of a bad sci-fi movie, the kind my brother used to make me watch when I was little.

I glared at the offensiveness of it all, the sunshine, the students. Why couldn't I just be normal? Was that too much to ask for?

"WELCOME TO SKY HIGH!" shouted a group of overly cheerful girls. Overly cheerful because it was 7:45 in the morning and this was probably the worst day of my entire life. I took their message as a yes. Being normal was far too much to ever ask for.

I scowled a very unattractive scowl and glared at the building. I shoved forward, pass all the freshman being introduced and up the stairs of my worst nightmare.

I found my locker easily enough and after three tries, because I kept putting in my old combination for my old locker -a locker that was maroon and not white, set into the wall instead of jutting out, comforting instead of intimidating- , I finally got it open. People were staring, because it was obvious, in a painful way, that I was new. And if I was new, I should be a freshman, therefore I should be in Power Placement -or so I had been told by three passing people, all of who I glared at- which I wasn't. I was also in the Hero class section of lockers causing quite the stir of gossip and quite the crowd.

I could feel my temper growing as more people stopped to stare. I could feel their fear pressing in around me as my less controlled side prepared for a fight. A very violent fight, because my temper was like gasoline to a fire.

Fear of embarrassment, fear of death, fear of blood, fear of losing powers, fear of fighting, fear of the future, fear of living up to a parents image, they were all there and all suffocating me in their hold.

I clenched my teeth together and was just about to spin around when a premonition crashed across my vision, just two simple pictures, and two options for me to take. I chose the less violent of the two options and shoulder my backpack and headed off to class, a map and class schedule in my hand.

I didn't need the map since I knew the layout of Sky High pretty well by now, having taken classes here over the summer so that I _'wouldn't be behind come fall'_, but it was nice to have something to look at other than the confused and gossiping faces of my fellow classmates.

'_Wouldn't be behind come fall' _had been my mother's idea and exact words, though I suspected it was just a way to get her freaky daughter out of the house so that she could pretend to have a normal life with her new husband.

I slipped into the Mad Science room and was greeted in an obnoxiously cheerful way. It was a surprise I could hear it above my blasting music.

"Good Morning, Miss Nelson." Medulla smiled at me, his rather large head shining, almost as if he had buffed it since the last time I had saw him. I turned down my music to speak -at a normal volume, instead yelling, which tends to happen when I talk with my music on- and because the classroom was extremely quite and the runoff from my cheap headphones was extremely loud.

"Morning, Mr. Medulla." I said, because this morning was in no way 'good' and I refused to pretend that it was.

He seemed to realize this and didn't offer anything else as I took my seat in the back. As I dug around for my tattered and worn book from my backpack, he spoke again.

"I'm going to the teacher's lounge, I trust that you won't cause any mischief while I'm gone." his tone was awkward, as if he didn't want to stay here any longer. Well, that makes two of us.

I nodded and he left quickly.

When he was out of the room I cranked up my music and lost myself in my book hoping that when I looked up from the slightly yellowed pages that I would be back at Maxville High sitting next to my best friend instead of being stuck in the middle of hell.

Sadly, I was just setting myself up to be burned

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**(A/N: What do you think? An angst ridden girl who doesn't want to have powers. And they're some pretty bad-ass powers at that. Premonition and Fear? So cool. So how will miss angsty-pants react to Peace? Will sparks fly, or flames?)**


	2. Meeting Pyro

**I don't own Sky High, or the Covenant, or Hot Topic. (The last two are mentioned.)  
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**Read, Review, and Enjoy.**

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Have I mentioned how fast gossip spreads at Sky High? Well it's pretty much the equivalent to wildfire on dry tumbleweed and pine needles. Yeah, it's that fast.

So, by lunch I was pregnant, a secret agent working for the government, an orphan (Although this one is almost true. Or, it might as well be.), a previous student who had plastic surgery, Boomer's long lost daughter, and (My personal favorite.) a supermodel. This is pointless really, since I look nothing like a supermodel but, yeah, it just goes to prove the mindless nature of the average teenage boy. This fact actually comforted me a little, super or citizen, all boy were the same. Well, at least some of them.

At lunch, after grabbing a slightly scary looking meal, I plopped down at the only empty table. I wasn't very hungry. Mindless babble coursed through the student body and I found myself a little lost, a little lonely. I was used to sitting a packed table full of laughing and sex jokes, not cut off from everything. I sucked it up, because that's just the kind of person I was. I would get over it, repress it, and worry about it later. Like tonight, alone in an empty house where no one could see or hear me cry.

I hate this.

I did, so much. With a passion that caused my anger to flare and made me grip the table with white knuckles.

I just wanted my life back.

"This is my table." said a deep, angry voice. I didn't bother looking up to see who had said it, because I didn't really care.

Could my day get any worse?

I shrugged and leaned back in my chair, the message was clear. I wasn't going to move.

"This is _my _table." the voice was angrier, more demanding of my attention.

"Too damn bad." I hissed looking up at him for the first time. Copper colored skin was the first thing I noticed -it was familiar but I couldn't put my finger on where I had seen it last- then the dark eyes and matching dark hair. He had a streak of red in it, which I found very interesting and oddly amusing. He had on dark colored clothes and a black leather jacket. His lips -which were abnormally large for a male- were pulled up in a snarl, he was glaring.

"Move." he growled. No joke, he growled. The sound was menacing and dark. A normal person would be afraid, but I deal with fear every second of every day so I wasn't scared of Mr. I-Have-A-Red-Streak-In-My-Hair.

"No." I'll admit it, I'm a little stubborn, but I was having a shitty day and I wasn't going to move for Mr. I-Could-Work-At-Hot-Topic.

His hands started smoking, which I thought was odd, until I noticed the flame tattoos on his wrist and it pretty much all fell into place. He was a pyro, and he was pissed.

I scanned his fears quickly finding things that surprised me -and amused me- until I found one I could use. It was a small fear, just a worry that barley crossed his mind.

He was afraid that someone would be immune to his fire. Perfect.

My eyes flashed black -like the Sons of Ipswich from the Covenant except without the fire ring or the addictiveness- and I was immune to Pyro's fire.

He didn't seem very startled by this, probably the effect of going to a super school and living with supers.

I raised an eyebrow, a challenge.

"I'm telling you this One Last Time. Move." the tendons in his neck were standing out and his eyes were burning holes at me.

I simply leaned back father in my chair, making myself comfortable, and gave him a smug smile. His hands erupted into flames. "Want to reconsider?" he said cocking an eyebrow up.

"No." I shook my head, still smiling. The flames crept across his jacket, up his arms. His dark hair blew back as the fire danced. "Nice parlor trick, Pyro."

He came closer to me and I felt the heat of the flames, but they didn't burn me. When he was close enough I reached out and put my hand into the fire, watching as it danced across my skin.

This scared him and he darted away from me, flames disappearing. I could feel his fear and I stood up.

"Next time, Pyro," I grabbed my bad and tray to untouched food. " I won't be so nice."

I left the confused and disgruntled Pyro staring after me as I quickly left the room, all the eyes in the lunch room on me, and all the fear pressed in around me.


	3. Save the Citizen

**I don't own Sky High.**

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Save the Citizen? You've got to be kidding me.

"Nelson! Peace! You're up first." Boomer, well, boomed making the freshman shrink lower in their seats. I had met Boomer over the summer for power development and the man didn't scare me, especially not when his greatest fear was spiders. I stood up slowly and noticed with a twist of annoyance that my partner was Pyro himself. I glared at him and went to change.

I was dressed and made my way to the small stadium with a scowl plastered on my features.

"Heroes or Villains?" Boomer asked eyeing me cautiously. Peace opened his mouth to answer but I cut him off.

"Heroes." I deadpanned glaring up at the Coach.

Pyro seemed a little shocked by my answer but nodded none the less.

"Against who?" The Coach asked, looking at me for an answer. I shrugged because I didn't know anyone at this stupid school.

Peace smirked. "Lash and Speed."

My eyes turned white as a premonition crashed across my vision for the second time that day. This one was longer than the last and showed two boys, dressed and ready for battle, walking into the stadium. One was tall and the other was chubby.

I came out of my trance to see everyone staring at me, including the pyro. Boomer was smirking because he knew what it was, cocky bastard. I hated it when people stared. So I shrugged it off and turned to where the boys -Lash and Speed I assumed- would enter into the battlefield. Talking - or gossiping, I couldn't tell- started back up again.

"I didn't peg you as the hero type, Nelson." Peace said. I cast him a sideways glare.

"Yeah, well..." I shrugged as I turned back to the spot where Lash and Speed would appear.

He seemed like he wanted to say something, but he didn't. I found myself wondering what he was going to say and so I looked at him, really looked at him.

He was pretty handsome, I'll admit.

"What were you going to say?" I asked, curiously. The corner of his mouth quirked up and he shrugged, turning away from me. It took me a second to realize he was mocking me.

"Whatever, Mr. I-Have-A-Red-Streak-In-My-Hair."

Did I just say that out loud? He turned to look at me. Yes, yes I did.

Shit. Now he's going to realize I'm crazy. Not that I really care what he thinks, it's just that it would be nice not to have people stare at me like I'm psycho.

But, if he has realized this he makes no comment. Probably out of common decency- which I don't have. Instead he makes a tiny gesture with his chin to the two boys walking into the stadium. One was tall and the other was chubby, just like in my premonition.

I vaguely wondered who was Lash and who was Speed.

"Hey princess, what's your name?" The lanky guy asked while stretching -literally- over to me, a sickly sweet smile on his face. I'll admit he was cute but the way he had said it reminded me of a man stalking a girl in an ally. I glared at him for being in my personal bubble and my natural knee-jerk reaction sent me searching his fears.

I raised an eyebrow curiously at what I found.

People are afraid of everything. Normal people don't give much thought to fear so there all pretty much the same but sometimes you run across a person who's fears are so deep that you wonder how they survive day to day. Like Pyro, something I'd noticed in the cafeteria. But… Lash's fears didn't run deep, they were just superficial and annoying. I was wasn't surprised. I had a habit of keeping my face impassive, so my face showed no emotion as my eyes flashed black.

"You don't talk much do you?" he leaned in again.

"Or maybe you just talk too much. Ever thought of that… Eugene?" I said quietly using his real name.

He stiffened and I smirked, because part of me was a bitch and because being a bitch was an excellent defense mechanism. I thought it better if I didn't make friends in this circus.

I turned away from him and toward Peace. "How about I just take care of them and you can _save the citizen._" my tone left no room for argument, but he still did.

"No. If anything I'll take care of these guys. Trust me, you can't handle these guys. Just save the citizen."

I snorted. I mean, I really couldn't help myself, when I find thing humorous I snort. "Trust me, I can."

Why did I just ask him to trust me? Hopefully he took it as spite.

"Whatever." he scowled and I was slightly intrigued by that but fought the erg to scan his fears because if I became too accustomed to them, well… lets just say that wouldn't be a good thing. That wouldn't be a good thing at all. I was already having a bad feeling about Peace. Not that he was evil or mean or an asshole per se but something in my gut told me that I should avoid him as much as possible.

-

The match itself was easy. I feed off of Speed and Lash's fear of loosing their powers and kicked back on a bench, eyes black as night. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. And Peace thought I couldn't handle them; as if.

I was amusing myself by watching Peace attempt to save the citizen. He was having a hard time trying to figure out how to _get_ to the citizen.

"Help me! Help me!" the pathetic voice sounded mechanically. It stabbed knifes in my gut remembering that I had been a citizen only three months ago.

Who would have know that you're whole world could change in three mouths. Certainly not me. I had never even dreamed of being a super. Sure I'd followed the news and studied them at MHS but never in all my craziest daydreams did I ever want to be one.

I sat on my me bench, now sullen by my thoughts and tried to amuse myself by watching Dumb and Dumber try and use their powers. The taller of the two kept throwing his arm out as if expecting it to stretch. The fat one kept running around and bending over, huffing for breath.

Sometimes supers are so weird.

My attention wavered and my powers flickered enough for the Tall Boy's arm to stretch. He obviously hadn't expected it to work so he had thrown it out with a bit too much force and it smacked his chubby friend across the face, causing the crowd to laugh.

My attention snapped back into focus and I resumed halting the use of their powers Tall Boy's arm still extended. Of course with all that weight it dropped like a rock to the stadium floor.

"How's it going Peace?" I asked smugly from my place on the bench. He grunted and sent me a look that spelled murder.

Peace eventually decided that getting up on the bigger of the metal spikes that were getting out was a good idea. I disagreed but held my tongue. If he wanted to get himself killed it wasn't my place to stop him. Let him be an idiot.

Here's an interesting fact for you, I can't use both of my powers at the same time. So when my unwanted premonition clouded my vision with white I lost the restraint I was putting on Tall Boy and Chubby Guy, but I didn't care.

Most people wouldn't call me a hero. So when the premonition showed Peace falling into the death trap I almost let him. That lasted only a second though, because I'm not completely heartless even if he was an idiot for even climbing up on the thing in the first place.

As soon as my vision cleared I bounded off of the bench and grabbed the back of Pyro's shirt, yanking him backward.

"What the hell are you doing, Nelson?" he growled from the floor.

"You were going to fall Hot-Head." I said simply.

"No I wasn't." he growled again. I almost corrected him before I decided it was a wasted effort, shrugged and left. I heard the time over bell ring out before I left the stadium and the sound of the citizen mulching washed into my ears.

Story of my life.


	4. The Paper Lantern

**I don't own Sky High... Damn.**

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I was buried up to my neck in homework. Hero profiles, villain psychology essays, and studying for extra pop quizzes sent my brain racking for a break. My nerves were spun up tighter than thread on a spool. Holding in my powers always makes me jumpy.

So when the phone rang I jumped off my bed causing two heavy text books to fall off. I grabbed it off my nightstand, irritated at my reaction. I flipped it open without looking at the caller and instantly regretted the rash decision as I held the phone up to my ear.

"Hello?" I asked.

"What's up bitch!" came the obnoxiously cheery voice.

"Hey, Cal." I mumbled rubbing my eyes tiredly.

"How was your first day of school?" she still sounded chipper.

I went for sarcastic. "Great."

"I thought as much." she sighed. "Wanna go out to dinner with the girls?"

I had a lot of work to do but I _needed _a distraction.

"Where?" I grunted a little un-lady like, not that I cared.

"That Chinese place… oh, what's the name?" she mumbled to herself, I could hear the sound of her radio in the background. Driving and talking on her cell phone, you think after that first ticket the girl would learn, but no.

"The Paper Lantern?"

"Yeah, that's the place."

"Come pick me up." I said before hanging up. I grabbed my books and shoved them into my school bag. Ugh, _school_. I thought the word school like most people might say _flesh eating disease ridden cockroaches_. But, hey I'm only human… wait, I can't use that excuse anymore. I'm not _only _human anymore.

I find it a bit surprising how that small little thought can send me into a bloodlust fury. Thankfully, for all living things, there wasn't anything made out of blood in my room. Unfortunately, for my wall, it suffered my wrath and now has a fist sized hole in it. And I have bloody knuckles, lovely.

I'm a pretty violent person when the mood strikes me. Which, for the record, isn't something I'm very proud of.

I grabbed a jacket -because it's chilly in Maxville at night, even at the end of summer- as I saw headlights flash across the front of my house. I yanked on my jacket as I fumbled down the stairs and grabbed a twenty -and my house keys- out of my purse where I conveniently left it by the door. Flicking on the outside light before I stumbled out of the front door assured me that I wouldn't have to grapple in the dark for my keys when I got home.

The first thing I heard when I slipped into Cal's car besides the background noise of the radio was "The blood really compliments you're outfit, Spider." I made a face at my nickname and rolled my eyes.

"Don't you think?" I batted my eyelashes to go with my over-the-top valley-girlaccent at the person in the backseat, the person who had made the comment -my best friend. Alex scowled at my act, glaring down her narrow nose at me. I dropped my overly-cheerful smile for an impassive expression that suited me better.

"What happened?" Kyle, the ever oblivious, asked.

"Nothing, Kylie. Are we going out to eat or are we playing twenty questions?" Blunt to the point of harsh, that was me.

Cal peeled out of the driveway and speed down the road. "Food, of course."

"How's you're summer been?" Alex asked, done being peeved with me. We hadn't seen each other all summer and I missed her. She had been my best friend since kindergarten after all; I wasn't used to _not_ seeing her.

"To hell and beyond. Yours?"

"Fine."

"My summer was great, Spider, thanks for asking." Kyle chimed in dryly his girly sounding voice.

I snorted. "Like I care." But, I was smiling. Somehow my friends always managed to cheer me up.

"I lost my virginity!" Cal chimed in, smiling as always.

I sighed. "That's great?" What do you say to that? "I wouldn't go shouting that out though, it makes you sound like a slut."

"Sound?" Kyle snickered from the back seat in his very gay boy way. "Cal _is _a slut."

She glared in the rearview mirror at him which only made him laugh harder. It felt right being back with them, chatting -or bickering- like nothing was wrong, like I wasn't a freak -or at least, a bigger freak than before.

I grabbed my cigarettes out of my back pocket, fishing a cancer stick out of the package with my lips and fishing the lighter out with my fingers. It took me a few tries to light the goddamn lighter because I'm very uncoordinated with them having never mastered the art. When my cigarette was finally lit I took a deep, deep drag and held it in my lungs longer than necessary before cracking the car window. I blew the blue-ish smoke out into the dusky sky. I loved this time of year, I really did.

"How's Maxville High?" I said relaxing for the first time in ages, months maybe -I had lost track.

"Boring as usual, wish I could go to super school." Cal sighed. "I bet they have hot boys up top."

My mind flickered to Pyro and his flames. Hot was a understatement.

"You have no idea." I muttered under my breath.

She didn't hear me. I cranked up the volume on the radio to halt any more comments on my _school. _

"How's super school?" Alex asked from the back.

"Shits n' giggles. Emphasis on the shits." I took another deep drag and wondered how anyone lived without nicotine. Sure it would shave years off my life in the long run but, for now, it was worth it.

"You're air- freshening the car when we get to The Rice Light." Cal mumbled looking at my cancer stick.

"The Paper Lantern." Alex corrected absentmindedly from the backseat, her tone bored.

"Sure thing, you want one?" I asked holding out my pack toward her.

"I'll stick to drinking, if you don't mind." she mumbled, distracted.

"More for me." I flicked ash out the window. I felt so relaxed -so at ease- that it all felt a bit surreal.

-

When Cal pulled into the restaurant parking lot, I was done smoking and my cigarette was abandoned in a gutter somewhere. Kyle, Alex, and Cal hustled out of the car, leaving me to spray it down with new car smell. A few quick spurts and I headed into the restaurant. It was a typical Chinese restaurant anywhere, oriental music and low lighting. I got I vibe I didn't like, it sent shivers down my spine.

I rounded the corner and looked past the panels with ornate cutouts searching for my party of three. Of course they were sitting in a booth near the back, already ordering.

"Hey, Spider! Over here!" Kyle waved is hand in a very gay way, but hey that was Kyle -gay and oblivious, you got to love him.

Unfortunately as he called out my nickname ever one turned to look at me. I was used to people staring at me, but I wasn't used to being surprised. I was surprised because I hadn't expected been expecting Pyro to turn and look at me from where he was standing right next to Alex, taking her order.

From Peace's dumbstruck expression I guessed he hadn't been expecting to see me either.


	5. Great, just Fucking Great

**I don't own Sky High.**

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I snapped my mouth shut the moment I realized that it had fallen open. Then, I glared because I would never let it be said that I was nice -because I wasn't. In all actuality I was a little nervous since Peace was standing _right next_ _to Alex._

My citizen best friend. Citizen being the key word in that sentence. Citizen as in no powers.

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and quickly made my way to the table. My mind was reeling with the fact that someone form _school_ knew what my friends looked like.

Which was bad. Very, very bad.

Because my friends are my only weakness.

Not a good thing when I make enemies the way I do. Especially when my enemies could grow up to be, well you know, super villains.

No, this wasn't a good thing at all.

"Nelson." Peace greeted with a grunt, the hint of a smirk playing at the edges of his ridiculously full lips. Damn him and his botox lips.

"Peace." my voice was like knives, sharp and deadly.

"Spider? Do you know this guy?" Alex asked causally -she wasn't stupid, she knew that I knew him enough not to like him, she was just wondering how well I knew him-, she probably didn't realize that she was sitting a foot away from a very dangerous super. Not that I couldn't take Peace, but I didn't want to kick his ass in the middle of the crowded restaurant. Especially not when he could easily grab on to Alex. A hostage situation didn't sound like a good idea.

`"No." was my immediate reply.

"Oh, that's cold Nelson." he seemed to find this slightly humorous.

"Suck my metaphorical balls, Peace."

"Oh, burn!" Cal sang playing with her glass of water.

"No thanks, _Spider_. I think I'll pass." Yes, that was defiantly a sick, twisted humor in Peace's voice. Is it sad that I don't know his first name? Yes, it kind of is. I won't dwell on it now.

"Can we order are or you guys going to duke it out?" Kyle interrupts in his gay-boy voice and Cal pouts. Seems like she had been enjoying this. I think that she just thought that Peace was hot and was enjoying ogling him. Sometimes Cal can be a slut… and as shallow as a puddle.

I want to duke it out, Peace has other plans in mind.

"What can I get you guys?"

I slump into the empty seat, never taking my eyes off of him. Not because he's gorgeous -although he is, damn him- but because you never take your eyes off your enemy. Kind of like never turn your back on an enemy, except harder.

"Your number." Cal flirts shamelessly with the man I was just about to kill seconds ago.

I took my eyes off of Peace to stare dumbfounded at her. It was times like these that I wondered if she really had lost her mind.

Kyle bust out laughing, pointing at my expression and Alex sighed, a little resign -mostly because she had never really gotten along with Cal since they were polar opposites.

And to my utter and complete shock he actually gives it to her.

I can feel my fear radiating around me. It's so much stronger than other people's fears, so much more _there._

It reminds me of when I was little and sitting alone on a park swing in Maxville Central Park when a very shady looking man tried -a poor attempt, but an attempt none the less- to kidnap me. I don't know if this frowns on my inability to take my safety seriously, my strangely impressive combat skills -biting for the most part-, or my mother's lack of parenting skills -I mean I was like five and I was all ALONE. What parent leaves their kid on a swing in Maxville Park alone? No decent parent, that's who.

I'm afraid for Cal because Pyro is dangerous and well Cal has always been a sucker for assholes. But this isn't just some guy who could break her heart, this guy could kill her.

When I'm scared, I get defensive. For me, defensive is outright mean.

"I'll have Sesame Chicken." I snapped, scowling. Alex, thank God, ordered as well, just as annoyed as me. So, at least I didn't sound jealous or anything. Which, I'm not. Peace can burn in hell for all I care.

"I'll have the General's Chicken."

Kyle stalls, for some pointless reason. I just want to get Peace out of here, or away from us works too.

"Um, I'll have…" he scans the menu, something I hadn't even bothered looking at. "Egg Rolls."

Cal is last and she bats her eyelashes at the Pyro in a way that wants to make me gag. Thankfully Alex pretends to stick her finger down her mouth in a mock I'm-going-to-hurl motion. "I'll have a salad." This is complete and utter bullshit since I know this girl can pack away three hamburgers in one sitting and she's only ordering it to look girly or some other crap like that.

It's times like these that I wonder why I don't just slap Cal across the face because I think she needs a reality check.

"Coming right up." Peace says and leaves, but not before sending me an almost smug looking smirk. Why he is smug, I do not want to know.

"That guy is SO hot!" Cal exclaims as soon as Pyro is out of earshot. I shake my head and Alex rolls her eyes. Kyle agrees like the horny gay-boy he is.

Little did they know how really hot Pyro is. What with the flames and all that.

Kyle makes a joke about wishing he -the pyro- was gay but I can't laugh because I feel so fucking tense. It's hard to imagine that just a few minutes ago I had felt so relaxed.

I know that he's still here and that he could be watching. I know that he could ruin me by telling anyone who my citizen friends are. I know he could kill me through them. I know I can't trust anyone from my _school._

My shoulders are tight with that knowledge, and my neck is stiff. I can't seem to move, it's like I'm frozen, unwilling to accept the fact that I'm very, very venerable right now.

God I need a stiff drink, like now.

"He goes to your school, doesn't he?" Alex asked calmly. I freeze at the mention of school and Cal spits out the sip of water she's just taken.

"What?!" she screeches in a whisper. Cal is always so overdramatic.

I shrug my shoulders, my jaw tense.

"He's a hero?" her whisper turns excited. I cast her a glace that says 'I don't think so'. Cal pouts and I roll my eyes.

I wonder when my life will ever be good again.

Peace comes back with the drinks, I take this as a sign form the gods. They say never.

Fuck my crappy ass life.


	6. Its Just Begun

**I don't own Sky High.**

* * *

My alarm clock blared and I winced rolling over to shut the damn thing off. Unfortunately in my hung-over state I 'accidentally smacked my alarm clock off of my bedside table. And yes, I did say hung-over folks.

See the thing about me and hating my life is that when I hate my life I feel the need to forget that small fact. Thus alcohol comes into the picture and makes everything wobble. In a wobbly picture I tend to think my life sucking is such a big fact. Thus sanity is achieved.

Sanity might have been achieved last night but I think murder is a probability this morning. I never have been able to hold my booze very well and now my head feels like its expanding inside my skull. Not to mention my liver, which feels like it's been punted to China and back.

Ugh, China. Chinese food. Cal. Kyle. Alex. The dastardly bastard Peace.

Funny how I can go from thinking about my liver to Pyro-I-Still-Don't-Know-His-First-Name-Peace. I actually could have bypassed five of those and just though of school.

Damn, school.

My alarm starts up again from the floor and causes my head to throb like it has a heartbeat of its very own. Nine minutes already? Oh, how the time goes when you're worried your internal organs have made trips across the world.

I reach for my clock and turn the stupid thing off before slipping out of bed. My warm feet touch the cool floorboards and I let out a hiss.

Stupid clock. Stupid school. Stupid liver. Stupid light. Stupid headache. Stupid floorboards.

Stupid world, I hate you.

I grasp the nearest clothes to me not even bothering to check if their clean, just if I wore them yesterday. When I notice that they aren't the clothes I wore the day before I shove them on nearly falling over while pulling on one of my pant legs. My leg ends up going through the hole in the knee.

"Son of a bitch." I groan before I get my pants on correctly. Once that little task is complete I go and hunt for a headache reliever.

I find some Excedrin in my mother's dusty and unoccupied room and dry swallow a few of them. My head hurts too much to bother finding water; I need the relief as soon as possible.

I don't have time for makeup or breakfast since I opted for sleep so I make my way downstairs and shrug on a jacket while throwing a few mints in my mouth to cover the bad breath that no doubt lingers there. Oh well, it's not like I'm trying to make a good impression on people or anything.

I run my fingers through my ridiculously short hair before I head out shouldering my backpack as I go. While on the street I slip my cigarettes from my coat pocket and pull one out with my lips. It dangles from its perch precariously as I try and light it.

It takes three tries to light the thing because I am a failure at using lighters but once it's lit it's worth it. It takes the edge off my hang-over and relaxes me a bit before I have to get on the bus. It's more like a mouth anyway because it'll take me right to the belly of the beast. Fucking Sky High, how I hate and detest you entirely.

I finally get to the bus stop a few minutes earlier and indulge myself in another smoke making a mental note to pick up another pack after school, I only had four left.

The junior bus rolled up as I was taking my last drag, the door swinging open on a frowning bus driver. He scowls as I drop it to the pavement and step on it with my combat boot as I step up the stairs. He wants to say something but my lethal glare -enhanced by my headache- halts him in his tracks.

There aren't many kids on so I plop down in an empty seat relaxing with my head against the window. Not a very good idea, honestly, because when the bus jerks forward my head bounces off the glass making it rattle and my brains to splatter all across the inside of my skull. Well, not literally, but you get the idea.

"Lovely." I muttered dryly, mostly to myself, as the bus glides down the street and I rub my head where a giant red mark is no doubt forming.

Could my day get any worse?

The bus jerks to a stop and I hit my face against the seat in front of mine. As I rub my head yet again contemplating hurting the driver of this fucking death trap I don't notice exactly how karma is paying me back.

But sure enough karma slips down the aisle and plops down… right next to me. A small insignificant noise is what alerts me to his present and I look up.

Now who could possibly sit next to me when I'm just a bad accident away from murdering half the bus?

Well, Peace. As if you hadn't already guessed as much.

"Go away." I say bluntly because my head hurts too much for sarcasm.

I think its official, God hates me. He really, really does.

He shakes his head and looks very amused, probably by the fact that I have two red marks forming on my face. Jackass.

"Are you stalking me?" I demand cynically, wondering if I have anything useful in my backpack or pockets that could help my head or get Peace away from me. I don't think I do. Damn, if only I had a crowbar… or mace.

My eyes flashed white, a premonition. One I called for, not one thrown at me. Personally I think the white eyes are creepier.

"Nice parlor trick." he commented with a raised eyebrow and a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he relaxed in his seat. Ugh, I can't stand him. It's like Anderson all over again, but at least Peace has decent material. Even if it is _mine._

And, even though I couldn't stand the sight of him I was still wondering why he looked familiar.

I shoved my headphones on despite the fact that my head is about to implode and ignore Pyro while waiting for the day to be over.

Even though it's already just begun.


	7. Detention

**I don't own Sky High. Sorry this is short but I think it's good for the plot. Yes, it's unusual for me, but I actually sorta have a plot for this story. Shocking, for all those who know I struggle with my plots at first.**

* * *

I fell asleep in Villain Psychology. Honestly, I was just glad it wasn't in Mad Science, I'm sure Medulla would have froze my ass. Because Medulla was one of the few teachers that are not afraid of me. Him and Powers.

They had my respect. Even if I was being lectured by Powers at this very moment.

Although I was ignoring most of it.

"Charlotte I don't know how-" She blabbered on, my hangover wouldn't allow me to listen.

Yada, yada, yada. Blah, blah, blah.

"Are you listening to me?!" her voice raises and echoes in the stark white room. It's nice in here, no fear. No future. Just me and my fading hangover.

"Not if you're calling me '_Charlotte'_." I grumbled, annoyed.

She fumes. "I expected better of you. Think of all this potential you have-"

"You're just worried I'll turn into a villain." I wave her off. She blinks. "Don't try and deny it."

"You're right. I am worried about that. You're powers could easily sway you to evil. You know this, obviously." She sighs and taps her foot once before reluctantly adding, "What would you like me to call you?"

I'm paying attention now.

"Charlie. Call me Charlie." I throw her a half-ass smirk.

She nods vaguely. "Charlie, you must understand that you're powers will consume you if you don't will them not to."

"I'm aware of that." I raise an eyebrow in her direction.

"No, Charlo- Charlie, I don't think you do. They're dangerous. With them you could do unthinkable things." she gives me a level tone as she speaks, her eyes haunted.

"I get it. I'm a monster. But you don't have to sweat Powers, I don't want to take over of the world." A shrug. "It's not worth taking."

It's true.

She sighs.

"It's just that…. That's not good enough for them." she gives me a long look before continuing. "The government… one slip up and they'll lock you up for good, Charlie. One wrong move and they'll try and get you." her brows crinkle up. "Cuffed with a nullifier, life in prison or… sentenced to lethal injection."

"I'm being judged by my powers." I bit my lip, thoughtful. Then laughed. I'm being judged for powers I hate, for powers that I never wanted.

"Do you find this funny?" her voice was appalled, outraged.

"A little. Really, I hate my powers. I wouldn't mind being cuffed." I shrugged, droopy eyed with tiredness. Even the sexual innuendo was lost to me, I couldn't even smirk.

Hangovers always mess up my humor. I lean my head back against the wall and Powers gives a huff before leaving the room tossing, "Don't fall asleep in class again." over her shoulder as she left.

I didn't listen and was soon sleeping soundly in the little white desk.

Ah, detention was bliss. No teachers, no students. And the best thing, no powers.

I wanted to live in this room. I wonder if they would let me. Probably not.

Too bad it didn't last long.

The door slid open in a very Jedi like way, very cool. If not a tad bit creepy. The sliding noise caused me to wake up. I snapped to attention in my chair just in time to hear Powers headed here.

"One more slip up Eugene and you'll be expelled!" Powers was _pissed_, not exasperated like she had been with me. Just plain angry, and annoyed.

Eugene? Why did that sound familiar? I should know this.

Aha! That stretchy guy from Save the Citizen!

Peace had called him and his fat -sorry, chubby- friend Speed and Lash.

A few moments later Eugene was being dragged in by Boomer. He didn't seem surprised to see me in here. Or, at least he tried not to.

"Hey Coach."

"I guess I'm not surprised to see you here, Nelson." Amusement coated his words like snow covers Maxville in the middle of winter… during a blizzard. And not one of the good kind that you can get at Dairy Queen.

"You look a little surprised, to be quite honest." Was that contempt in my voice? Yeah, I guess it was.

His eyes narrowed into little slits. Powers sighed while I grinned. I felt good after my little nap. No more hang-over. Waking up without powers helped too I guess. A little more than I was willing to admit. Okay, a lot more than I was willing to admit.

"Nelson-" his voice was trying to dangerous but a bit lackluster.

"You are excused. You may go to lunch." Powers interjected and gestured me out the door.

I left hiding my reluctance because stepping out of the small white room I would get my powers back. And boy, did I ever.

Ever slam you head against a wall repeatedly? Ever get in a car crash going eighty with no seatbelt on and you slam your forehead against the windshield?

That's pretty much the equivalent of walking out of the detention room for me.

Fear slams into me and a premonition snaps down across my vision.

Just_ fucking_ peachy.

And, you wanna know the worst part? While having my premonition I run into someone.

Anyone wanna guess who?

That's right. It's Peace.

I think it's official, he's stalking me.


	8. A Wall of Peace

**I don't own Sky High. Due to lack of readable Oc works -most make Warren out to be something he's not- Warren will be as in character as I can make him.**

* * *

"Uff!" All the air rushed out of my lungs in one big gust because Peace is a wall. A freaking brick wall.

I blinked twice and my premonition faded into the present. Lovely, could have used that like two seconds ago, but all is well that ends horribly.

Peace raised an eyebrow, a little angry looking. I ignored the anger just because I could and that sort of behavior annoys people like Pyro.

"Here's a suggestion Pyro: Stop. Stalking. Me." I punctuated each word so he would get the message. Considering his retort, I don't think he did.

"Spider, I'm not stalking you. I have far better things to do with my time." He sent a glare my way. "Like ripping out my own intestines."

Shit. My eyes narrowed into deadly slits. He would so regret that.

"Don't call me that." I hissed. One more word out of this asshole and he was going to pay. Big time. My anger was already at dangerously high stakes, better not raise Peace.

"Call you what?"

"Don't try innocent, it doesn't work on you."

"Who said I was trying innocent."

"I did."

"Well your opinion doesn't matter."

"Just because your some pompous asshole with your head shoved so far up your ass that you can't see clearly, doesn't mean that my opinion is any less important than the almighty Pyro's." I snapped, hands balling into fists at my side.

Don't get furious. Control your anger. He's not worth getting thrown in jail. Remember what Powers said. Don't kill him. No matter how much you want to.

I fought my better instincts to kick his motherfucking ass because, boy, he deserved it. I fought it, but I still read his fears -even if I didn't mean to.

Fear of being unloved. Fear of becoming just like his father. Fear of being helpless. Fear of betrayal. Fear that something will happen to his mother. Fear that his father would escape from solitary….

They went on and on, and they went deep. I would have thought of would have caused him to be so… scared if I wasn't as fucking pissed as I was. And I was fucking pissed.

No one tells me my opinion doesn't matter. No one. Not again.

I took a deep breath, and then another. They were supposed to calm me down, but they did little good. I might as well have started running up and down the hallway to simmer down.

Peace seemed surprised by my reaction; my absolute fury.

"You have a bit of a temper don't you?"

"You're really one to talk." I huffed.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Whatever, Spider."

I flipped him off, because I could. The stupid pyro with his too big lips and his bad boy who hates the world swagger- God, he was starting to get on my last nerve. I walked the fuck away before I did something that I might regret. Technically I stormed, but I think walked sounds a bit more dignified. And, well, I'm never very dignified, so sometimes it feels nice to pretend. Classy as hell, confident as shit -because I couldn't care what the fuck people said about me-, and stubborn as fuck, but I was never dignified.

Instead of stalking off towards the lunchroom -like I really should have- I headed outside because, damn did I need a cigarette brake. The need for nicotine swelled inside of me and begged for smoke. It begged for a release. And, really, who am I to object?

I didn't used to smoke so much but this summer has been… stressful and I needed something to take the edge off. Cigarettes were there already and so damn delicious that I couldn't resist.

It's really windy outside, and my hair - it's getting too scruffy I'll need to get it cut soon, and colored since my dark roots are showing through the blond.

I make my way behind the building and one of the storage sheds -a place where the surveillance cameras can't watch. It's a spot I found over the summer when I had free time.

I don't worry about being caught as I slip my bent pack of Camels out and put a cancer stick between my lips. It doesn't matter if I'm caught, I don't really care about suspension or expulsion -I hate this school. My trusty lighter isn't cooperating, I soon find out as the small flickers I am getting from it are quickly snuffed out from the wind. Even cupping my hand around the flame isn't helping any.

But, after about twenty or so tries I finally get the flame to burn long enough to light my stick of heaven.

And, God, is it ever worth it. There's no hangover to dull the sensation and the smoke tastes like every great thing on this planet. Or, to my nicotine addiction it does.

I burn through two cigarettes before I had to go back inside to the torture that is Sky High.


	9. Dollar Tree

**I don't own Sky High. **

* * *

After school was over, and after I had gotten another few packs of Camels, I headed to work. Here's the thing, I work at Dollar Tree. No, don't laugh. A job is a job and working at Dollar Tree is easy.

I park my dilapidated and rusty car around back and jog across the ally to the shabby paint-peeling back door. I'm late, but that's not unusual. I doubt my boss will be in today at all -she's such a lazy bitch.

As I make my way through the back door and snag my vest out of my employee locker I notice that I am right, Anna isn't in today. Thank freaking God, I don't think I can deal with her shit today.

I twist the hands of the clock on the punch in clock back ten minutes before I stamp my card and put them back. It's a trick that I learned a long time ago that I doubt anyone will find out about since the security camera in the employee brake room is pointed towards the door.

Work at Dollar Tree is slow and boring, as always. I worked the cash register today and seven people asked me if everything was really a dollar.

Really? You don't know everything in Dollar Tree is a dollar? Even when it's written on everything in sight? Really?

"No, everything's ten dollars. We just say it's a dollar to draw people into the store. Sorry for the inconvenience." Is always my standby reply, unless they are very old or very young.

Some people actually believe me when I tell them that. Others ask to see my manager, and I always tell them that she's not in -even when she is.

Really, it's a wonder I still have a job.

So, after my long and tiresome shift I saunter back toward the employee lockers and grab all my crap before I head to my car, my thoughts on my nice and warm bed.

The things is, because somehow I have the crappiest luck of anyone I know, my car won't start. It starts smoking, and I don't know what's wrong with it, just that it won't freaking start. Won't start as in no sound, no bad noise, dead and never coming back.

I smoked two cigarettes so I wouldn't have a mental breakdown because, really, how could my day get any worse.

Hangover, the bus ride form hell, detention, dealing with Peace in the hallway, and sitting trough super school.

The last two day felt like they've lasted forever and I still have the rest of the year to deal with -car-less for the foreseeable future. Worst part of it all: That I can see that future. And fear. You can never ever forget fear.

I want to drown myself in alcohol again. I want to smoke until my lungs give out. I want make someone scream, which is really, really wrong. But, hey, that's just my weird ass powers trying to drag me onto the Dark Side -and yes, that is a twisted Star Wars reference, thank you very much.

I take a deep breath and calm myself down from the edge of hysterics long enough to shout to Jerry -my coworker- that my car broke down and that's why it'll be sitting behind the store until I can get it towed.

He offered me a ride home, and really, I should have took it. A year ago and I would have. But, damn my pride, I didn't.

Now, I'm walking home through Maxville -a city with a crime rate off the charts- in the middle of the freaking night. And guess what? It just started raining.

Damn, my life is a bad soap opera.

Oh, so I'll admit that the dark gives me the creeps. I've never liked the dark. I've never like Maxville in the dark, so I'm on high alert, and, admittedly, trying to take shortcuts home.

Shortcuts that just so happen to get me lost, on the bad side of town.

Great, now someone's going to try and mug or rape me and I'll have to kick their ass with my powers, then the cops will come and lock me up, throwing away the key forever.

Just fucking great.

The first sign that something is amiss is that the ground starts shaking. Which, in Maxville, is never a good sign.

Last year, I would have run and hid like a good little citizen, or maybe I would have screamed for help, but now I don't even flinch. I just keep on walking, my short hair plastered to my head and my combat boots squelching nosily against the wet pavement.

I should have ducked into an ally or something- it is a bit unusual for someone to continue walking down the sidewalk when you can feel something big and dangerous stomping it's way through the business district, but I really wasn't thinking about anything but getting home, and fast.

So that's probably why I got tackled into the ally, because someone didn't think I could take care of myself.

And that just pissed me off, because I was already having a shitty day.

"Get the fuck off of me!" I yelled.

The face I saw in the light glinting off the wet pavement was one I hadn't been expecting.

Guess.

It was fucking Peace.

How in the name of hell? What the fuck? Why is he here? _Is_ he _really _stalking me?

God, I hope not.

"This is getting ridiculous!" I slam my fists down on the pavement. "Why can't you leave me the hell alone Peace?"

"Oh," he said. "It's you. I wondered what idiot was waltzing down the street when a giant is terrorizing the city." Then he mumbled under his breath, as if I couldn't hear it. "Of course it's you."

That's just plain insulting. One, I'm not an idiot. Two, I was not waltzing. And three, I'm not stalking him -he has absolutely no right to be judgmental.

Instead of hurting him -which I really want to do- I pick myself up, dust myself off, and leave the ally in a huff only pausing to throw a withering glare his direction. "Yeah, of course it's me. Fuck you Peace."

And that was that. I went home, took a very long shower to revive the feeling in my toes, downed a little could medicine so I wouldn't be sick the next day -because I hate being sick more than I hate school-, and went to bed.

Tomorrow, I decided before I drifted off, I was going to start avoiding Pyro.


	10. Curiosity, Icy, Flyboy, and Drunkeness

**I don't own Sky High. Updates might be longer, I have finals to study for.**

I started avoiding Peace, and it was harder than I imagined.

I saw him a whole four times in three weeks. Personally, I thought zero times would have been better but hey, that's just my pessimistic side talking.

The first time I ran into Peace was a week or so into school -a few days after I got my hair dyed, brown this time- in the hallway outside the gym.

If he was shocked to see me with brown hair, he made no indication -or maybe I didn't notice it since I blatantly ignored him, choosing to stare down the crowded hallway instead of acknowledging his existence at all.

I am aware of the fact that sometimes I act immaturely, but hey, we all have our quirks. Mine just happen to be very unpleasant.

The second time I saw him was when we were at lunch. Normally I get there before him, eat, and leave before he gets to the table. Then I go outside and read or something, despite whatever weather we're floating -drifting?- through.

But about a week after our first encounter -if you could call it that- I had to stay after in Psychology to get a packet about the background of the villain that I have to annualize -Barron Battle or something- this semester and I was late getting to the lunch room.

I went to my usual table after I had loaded up with food -not the tastiest thing in the world, but I was really hungry, so it didn't matter- and dug in. Unfortunately, I couldn't finish before Peace arrived.

At first I thought he was going to yell, or spontaneously combust -the way he had that first day- but he didn't. He just sat down without a word, pulled out a book, and read, ignoring his tray of food.

I did my best to ignore him, but my curiosity got the better of me. I had the undeniable urge to see what he was reading because the cover was faded and I have a thing for classic books. A big thing, like obsession worthy -my room is filled with books.

Soon I found myself subtly sneaking glances at the cover and trying to get a glimpse at the spine.

"It's _Macbeth_." he muttered. Okay, so maybe I hadn't been so subtle. I shrugged, despite my fathomless curiosity. Why would someone like Peace like Shakespeare? I was endlessly fascinated by this.

Our third encounter was during Save the Citizen a few days later. I was playing a villain, which was so freaking easy -until I figured out the girl Peace was fighting with wasn't afraid to lose her powers, then I was pretty much screwed.

The girl in question could shoot ice out of her palms so really, me and my scrawny white belt self couldn't take her in hand to hand so I tried to leave it up to my partner, Mr. I-can-fly-and-I-have-super-strength. Boomer told me his name, but I forgot it, mostly because Peace walked in the arena and I got distracted by the you're-supposed-to-be-avoiding-him vibe I got from my stomach.

Unfortunately for me the girl was smarter than I gave her pretty little head credit for, and figured out that I was the one shorting out Peace -mostly because she actually has a brain, unlike Speed and Hash

(or was it Lash, I can't remember). So, she shot ice beams at me, thoroughly distracting me from using Peace's fear against him in favour of saving my skin from frostbite.

Shit.

"Can't neutralize me can ya, Nelson?" the blond who was trying to kill me with her icy beams of death laughed.

"I." Dodged behind the fake light pole. "Don't." Half crawled, half ran behind a trash can. "Neutralize." Hit the deck and barely miss a shot to the head. "People!" I rolled under the bench just before she swung her hands in my direction.

"Sure you don't." Through one of the ice cover slats I saw her roll her eyes.

"Really, ask Boomer." I rolled out as fast as I could and sprinted behind my partner, because he was having an awfully hard time dealing with Peace, and I could handle Peace without destroying his sanity. Icy -as I have so dubbed her- not so much.

"Go fight her." I pushed my partner in the direction of Icy.

"But-" he protested weakly.

"I can deal with Pyro." Another shove. What was this guy, a rock? "Go, Flyboy!"

Peace seemed really amused by this as he threw a fireball at me, which I avoided by ducking low and throwing my leg out, to make him fall down. And, hurray, it worked. He ended up sprawled on his back, and I ended up having enough time to throw my powers into drive.

But, the disconcerting thing was, when I grabbed hold of Peace's fear I saw something that I hadn't seen before. A new fear.

It left me staring at him with a confused look on my face as my black eyes met his brown ones a second before the alarm sounded.

Peace wasn't afraid of me, he was just afraid he'd met his match.

The last time I saw Peace in those three weeks when I was dutifully avoiding him was at Homecoming. No, I didn't go to the Sky High's homecoming. Give me a little credit.

Nope, I crashed MHS's homecoming. It really was a homecoming, for me.

The dance was okay, but the party after was amazing. Booze, someone loses their shirt, dancing on tables crazy. In other words, my kind of party.

So of course, I get hammered and start dancing on tables. I did not, however, lose my shirt. Because somewhere deep, deep inside I have class. I have a hella lot of class.

It was one of my favourite songs, so I had to dance. And I was far too drunk to bother denying the erg. Everything was fuzzy around the edges and a bit wobbly but I hadn't felt this good in a long time.

I even forgot that I was a freaky super.

Until the patrols came around. See, when you're a Junior you get the option to go patrolling with a certified Hero and learn the ropes early. I had been offered such a job with Psychotics herself, but I turned it down.

So I was dancing like a slut -because I was very, very drunk- on one of the tables when a whole group of kids from my school burst in.

"Supers!" someone shouts, because supers are always worse than cops where parties are concerned. Everyone scatters. It's utter freaking chaos, bodies thrashing every which way. Drunks stumbling on everything.

I made it to the ally before I fell, and I only fell because it was really dark and I couldn't see two feet in front of my blurred eyes. I fall into a pothole, which really pisses me off, so I cuss.

Louder than I thought I did.

And who appears at the end of the ally where I just ran through but Pyro in a mask that really isn't working to hide his true identity. In my drunken state I didn't think I would be a bad idea to get caught. In fact, I didn't think about it at all.

I wish I had.

"Ugh, fuck!" I moan on the ground because my ankle is fucking KILLING me. Or, that's the way it seems. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit."

"Hey." He says rather loudly, making his way toward me- the form on the ground clutching her ankle. "Are you alright?"

At this point in time I don't think he knows it's me.

"No." I sound very whiny, very unlike me.

"What's wrong?"

"My ankle, dickweed." I groan. The insult is because this should be obvious since I'm _clutching my effing ankle. _Could I make it more obvious? I'm drunk as all get out and I realize how stupid his question is. That's saying something.

His arm flares up and he says, "I'm not going to hurt you. I just have to see you're ankle."

"You couldn't hurt my anyway Pyro. I thought we went through this already. By the by, that mask -not working." I slur into the dirty gravel as the light from his flames illuminates the pot hole.

It jumps to me, almost like he's startled but I don't know. I can't see his face when his hand is all lit up, my attention is held on the orange fire.

"Nelson?" he grunts, not so concerned sounding now.

I nod, but only succeed in rubbing my face against the little sharp rocks. Ouch. I give him an affirmative grunt, he can see me now so it really doesn't matter, but I do it anyway.

"Fuck." I heard him mutter to himself.

"Yeah, I'm not so happy to see you either Pyro."

Another grunt and the fire is extinguished. It's pitch black and I can't see anything.

"Hold out your hand." he grunts. Seriously, everything he says comes out like a grunt.

"Why?" I am a very uncooperative drunk, let me tell you.

"So I don't feel you up."

"What?!" I don't like that, I don't like that at all.

"I'm going to pick you up." He doesn't sound very happy about it. I still don't understand. " Hold out your hand so I don't grope at you in the dark."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?" He seems rather annoyed. I wonder why.

"I have this thing against physical contact." I muttered because it's true.

"Would you like to lie in an ally with a twisted ankle?"

"It's twisted?" I don't wait for his answer. "Damn."

"Well?" he asks, irritated and huffing.

A little resigned I cave. "No, I don't want to lie in an ally with a twisted ankle." I pull up my sleeves all the way before I hold out my hand, making sure it's covered with cloth. It hits him, but I don't know where. I think in his face, but it could have been his shoulder.

His hands comes down around my wrist and he finds my shoulders. His skin is really, really warm -I can feel it through my shirt and his leather jacket.

"Where's your knees?" he grunts and his voice is right next to my ear.

I use my hand -the one that he has his hand around my wrist- and pat my knee.

He shifts, and I take that as a nod.

A click sounds quietly and a little red light comes on. Pyro talks. "I found a hurt girl."

"How hurt?" comes the reply. Not from me. Must be a walkie talkie.

"Twisted ankle. I'm taking her home."

"Home?" the voice sounds amused, and familiar. Then I recognise it.

"It's Flyboy!" Yep, I'm drunk. Really drunk.

Peace sighs.

"Nelson?! You found Nelson?!" Flyboy's answer is very panicky. His voice shoots up an octave when he talks like that. I tell him so.

"Flyboy, you shouldn't talk like that. It makes your voice sound like a girl's."

Peace chuckles silently. I can feel his body shake just a little.

"Just tell your dad that I'm not coming back alright?" Peace grunts.

"Su-" Flyboy's response was cut off by a click as the walkie talkie was shut off.

Then Pyro grabs me beneath my knees and pulls us off the ground. I'm wondering if he knows where I live.


	11. A Shitty Day

**I think I passed three of my four finals. Four more to go. Screw it, I'll have to take that class again anyway.**

**I don't own Sky High.**

* * *

I landed on the couch heavily because _someone _dropped me.

"Uff!" I huffed as all my breath came rushing out. "I hate you." I coughed three or four time and rolled over, only to hit my bad ankle on the armrest.

I muffled my curse and whimper in a throw pillow.

"You're welcome." he said, already turning to leave.

"Not so fast." I said, scrambling off of the couch while hopping on one leg only to stumble and catch myself on the coffee table. Why I fell couldn't be answered -drunkenness or hastiness?

Peace paused, turned to look at me -his mask missing-, and raised an eyebrow like he was questioning my sanity. He didn't say anything. I was starting to realize that he really didn't say much.

"How the fuck do you know where I live?" I had wanted to know for a while. He turned back around and with long denim clad legs, strode out of my living room. Destination: My front door.

"You get off the bus before I do." he called out over his shoulder before he slammed my front door shut behind him and vanished.

It was the first time Peace ever came to my house. I just wish I would have known it wouldn't be the last.

-

I woke up on the couch ten minutes late for work. Normally this is when I actually get in because I have this tendency to be either early or late, never on time. As I was thinking of a decent excuse for being this late I rolled off the couch. Coincidently I didn't remember my twisted ankle until I put my weight on it.

Which, you know, hurt like a son of a bitch. Worse now that I didn't have any alcohol in my system.

"Aw piss." I whimpered, not because I'm a wimp, but because I haven't had anything hurt so much since I broke my left leg in junior high -the bone had pierced through the flesh, and I had cried all the way to the emergency room.

My head gave a huge single throb and I felt like utter fucking shit as I dropped back down on the couch and fished my cell phone out of my pocket. First I called work and told them that I had a twisted ankle and couldn't come in. Anna's pissed and I'm tempted to tell her where she can shove her 'employee policy'. But I need my pay check to pay for my growing nicotine addiction. That and how much it's going to cost me to get my car fixed and a medical bill I will no doubt receive when I go get my ankle checked out.

I need the fucking money, so I keep my mouth shut.

As punishment, she gave me the nightshift tomorrow. That means I'm working a double.

Ah, I HATE her SO much.

Second I fish my cigarettes out of pocket, notice they are bent but not broken, and light one -which takes about five minutes. You'd think that since I smoke so much that I'd be good at this, but no. I still suck at life.

Story of my fucking life.

I burn through three because I hate my life, I'm stressed to fuck and beyond, and my ankle kills.

Third, I call Alex and ask her to take me to the hospital since my car is still in the shop and they haven't gotten back to me about how much it's going to cost to get it fixed. She didn't ask questions, just said she'd be over in fifteen.

It's times like these that I adore my best friend in a completely platonic way.

About five minutes before Alex said she's be here that I get enough courage to actually look at my ankle. It's swollen to the size of a medium grapefruit.

That's about when the shop calls and tells me that the part I need for my car isn't being made anymore and will cost me six months of my salary. I felt like crying. One, I really love that car despite what a piece of shit it is. Two, I don't have that money. And three, I'm having a really shitty day. I told them I wanted to sell it for scrap money.

He told me the first good thing today. He said that was very doable and when I had time I could stop by the shop and get my money.

I thanked him and snapped my phone shut, groaning into the worn fibers of my couch.

Thankfully, the rest of the day was relatively better. The doctor told me that it wasn't a sprain, just twisted (like Pyro had said) and that I was very lucky. He also told me that I needed rest, to elevated it above my heart, and take pain medication.

I got Vicodin, which was pretty much the highlight of my day.

Especially since when Alex took me home someone was sitting of my front porch. And, for once, it wasn't Peace. Personally I would have preferred the Pyro, at least he doesn't remind me of the terrible things I can do the second I look at him.

"Is that-?"

"Yep." I mumbled since the Vicodin was just starting to kick in.

"Do you want me to call the cops?"

"Nah." I muttered getting out of the car. "I can handle him."

"You sure that's not the medication talking?"

"Pretty sure." and with that I limped up the walk and pulled out my keys. I waved Alex to drive away and she did, reluctantly.

"Why are you here?" I sighed.

"I'm here to tell you that you better watch your back." his snide comment came. Surprising how a stint in a mental hospital does absolutely nothing to change some people.

"Whatever Anderson. Remember the last time we had this conversation. I do. Vividly." Unfortunately. Painfully.

"That was then, and this is now. I might not be able to do shit to you because your such a fucking freak, but there are other people out there that could do it for me."

See why this guy pisses me off?

"Are you threatening me?" My tone is so abrupt and harsh that he flinches back.

"Do you feel threatened?" he asks, his hands balling into fists.

"No." That's a lie. I know this guy, and he knows me. He knows who my friends are, and who my mother is.

"You should be." He's right, but I'm not going to own up to that.

"Get the fuck off my property before I send you back to that hospital." I hiss and he scampers off, trying to look tough -it doesn't work on me. It never has.

When I get inside I pop another Vicodin, not thinking about overdosing because, frankly, I don't care if I die. I flop back on the couch and turn on the T.V. waiting for the medication to work. I can't feel my ankle but my chest feels burnt and hallow, like someone burning me alive from the inside. Maybe that's regret or, remorse but I can't tell. Maybe it's because I'm a monster. Or, maybe it's because I'm a super, and for once in my entire life was wishing I was normal.

I burn through the rest of my cigarettes and my chest never does feel quite right.


	12. Benches, Cleaners, and Pomes?

**Sorry this took so long but I've been gone on vacation. The first one of the summer -there are more to come. Europe baby! I went to Europe and it was AWESOME. I loved it. Spain and Italy. I might put a list of things I've seen and learned on my profile in the next few weeks. **

**I don't own Sky High.  
**

* * *

I was dog-ass tired when I was waiting for the bus, lounging back on a bench. I'd had about an hour of sleep after I got home from my double because I had to get ready for school- shower, clean clothes, brush my teeth, eat something, the whole nine yards.

Ugh, school.

As far as I knew there were five stages of grief. Some say there are seven, but I can only remember five. So I say there are five. Denial, bargaining, anger, depression, and acceptance.

I wondered, as I smoked my first cigarette of the day, which stage I was at, but quickly dismissed it and thought of something I deemed more important.

How was I going to get shit faced tonight without getting a hangover?

See how the teenage mind works? Simple, I know.

I cracked open an energy drink with the hand that was holding my cancer stick and sipped on the pure caffeine -my double shift pick me up. The can was cold against my hand, like the breeze was against my knees. It was getting colder out, the start of fall causing the leaves to shift color into dusty hues. Yellows, browns, and reds. My street was picturesque -well, besides the teal haired girl (newly dyed) in the faded Motley Crue t-shirt (What can I say? I love Dr. Feelgood and Smoking in the Boy's Room.); holy, frayed jeans; and combat boots sitting on the bench.

I glanced up and down the block, anxious -the effect of too much caffeine, nicotine, and too little sleep. That and the Vicodin I've been taking for my ankle makes me jumpy. To alleviate said anxiousness I drummed my fingers on the plastic slats of the bench, downed my Amp, tore the tab off, finished my cigarette, and scoffed at the city bus that went by with a picture advertising 'Stronghold Real Estate: It's _real_-estates' on the side and 'Supers for a cause' graffiti on the back window.

I littered my cigarette butt in the gutter and pulled out another out of my new pack, savouring the taste in my mouth and the calm feeling in my chest that only smoking brings. I get my lighter lit on the first try and am so surprised that I move it too fast and it blows out.

Ugh. I'm not even going to point out how ironic that is.

While I'm attempting to light my lighter again, the bus rounds the corner.

I sigh, resigned and shove my unlit stick of heaven back into the pack, pocket my lighter and the box of Camels, and grab my backpack, crushing my discarded Amp can as I stand up.

Another day in hell. I don't know how much more of this I can stand.

It wasn't until the bus stopped and I saw Peace striding on did I remember his last words to me the other night. _"You get off the bus before I do."_

I also get on before him.

My eyes travelled to the windows and landed on a apartment building, red bricks and shabby entrance. Ivy was crawling up the ally side and the fire escape -I internally snorted at the irony- was almost touching the building next to it- the dry cleaners my mom used to go to. The couple who owned it lived in the apartments above the shop. I remember that they used to give me candy when I went with my mother to pick up her things. Back then the shop had been nice, now it looks a bit run down - the 'n' hanging down in 'cleaners'.

I met Peace's eye for a second before he plopped down in the seat next to mine -his usual one occupied.

"Nice hair." He grunted, as per usual.

"Fuck off. At least I have the metaphorical balls to do my whole head." I shot back, slouching in my seat, restlessly.

"How the ankle?" He smirked in a condescending sort of way.

"Fantastic. I have Vicodin." I muttered staring out the window.

He grunted, in what I'd like to think was jealously. I ignored him and pulled a book out of my backpack, slipping open to the book-marked page.

He glanced at my book, and although I couldn't see it, I knew the curiosity was there.

So I said nothing and kept reading, even when we were launched off the bridge and sky rocked into the air.

"Poems? Nelson, really?" Peace muttered a minute before we landed. Amused and condescending.

I flipped him off. "Screw you Pyro."

"You would."

"You wish." With that I shoved him back down in his seat as he tried to stand while I stood and exited the bus, only slightly limping on my twisted ankle.

-

That day I refused to participate in the Save the Citizen.

So I was up as a villain against some nerdy kid and Icy with a kid who's power I didn't even fucking know. I sat on the bench and refused to fight. Simple right?

Boomer didn't like this.

"NELSON! What are you doing?" He… boomed in that obnoxious way of his.

" I'm not playing this stupid game. It's beneath me."

He turned a shade of purple that I found quite fascinating. "It's NOT a GAME!"

"Looks like one."

"THIS IS TO PREPARE YOU FOR YOU'RE LIFE AS A HERO! It is a TRAINING EXERCISE!"

"Whatever."

"FIGHT NELSON!"

"No."

"Then you FAIL!" Again with the loud voice. I think he's over compensating for something, if you know what I mean.

Icy had a peculiar expression on her face and walked over to my bench. At first, I thought she was going to attack me, but she didn't. In fact, you'll never believe it, she actually sat down.

I threw Couch a smug look. He looked like he was about to bust an artery in his forehead.

Boomer opened his mouth, probably to say something incredibly stupid, when Medulla cut him off. "I find this very interesting. Perhaps we should see how this plays out, Couch. What do you say?"

Boomer didn't want to disagree with Medulla -I suspect a man-crush or maybe he wanted to look smart, agreeing with a genius. Whatever, doesn't matter.

"Fine." Boomer yelled, not boomed. I'd say that was one point for me.

"Boomer is an ass." Icy said, running her hand through her long hair.

"Just noticing?" I smirked, eyes skimming the ceiling.

She smiled back. "You're not a horrible as everyone says."

"Are you sure? I'm pretty horrible."

"I'm sure." She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Why?"

"No reason. Curiosity."

"A bit contradictory."

"Always." I slumped against the bench and watched the nerdy kid power up into a huge rock… thing. My partner paled a bit, looking a bit like an ant next to Rocky, as I have so dubbed him.

"Why are people staring at us?" I asked. "Am I that infamous?"

"No, I just don't play nice with others."

"People are bitches. I say fuck um."

"I think we'll get along just fine here Nelson."

"We sure will Icy. You hate this school as much as I do, don't you?"

She nodded in an off handed sort of way, as if she didn't want to talk about it and I respected that. Maybe I do have common decency.

"Icy…" she mused. Then smiled. "I like it Nelson."

"Good, I'm bad with names." I said, fingers twitching. God, I wanted a cigarette.

"Hardly anyone knows my real name." She mumbled. "They all call me Freeze Girl."

"That's a lame nickname. Like calling a girl name Elisabeth, Joan."

Icy laughed.

"What's your name?" She asked. "You're real name?"

I scratched my head and shrugged. "That's no fun. Takes the mystery out of everything."

"I do like the hair. Ballsy, but you looked better blond." Icy say looking at my 'dyke spike' as Kylie had dubbed it freshman year.

"A bit biased? You haven't seen me as a red head."

"Interesting." She gave me a measured look. "I'm having a party this weekend. You're welcome to come."

I considered this. "What kind of party?"

"The only good kind."

"I don't know. The last time I got drunk I twisted my ankle."

"How?"

"It's a long story."

"I bet it is." She paused. "So which way do you swing? You're not interested in girls are you?"

"No. Why?"

"Damn."

"You like girls?"

"Yeah." She shrugged.

"I'm almost flattered. Really didn't see that one coming."

She grinned. "Most people don't. I tried the whole 'guy' thing. I really didn't see the point."

I shrugged. "Whatever works for you."

"You're really not fazed? At all?"

"Were you going for the shock factor?"

"No."

"Well there's your answer."

"Nelson?"

"Yeah?"

"You're really cool."

"Tell me something I don't know."

She laughed and we both looked up as the buzzer screeched announced the end of the match.

My team lost.


	13. There's No Way I'm Surviving That

**Sorry this too so effing long. I really don't have an excuse.**

**I don't own Sky High.**

* * *

The next week I had the worst day of my life. Now you might suspect that I'm being a tad bit overdramatic, but I assure you -on my love of nicotine- that it was truly the worst day of my life thus far.

It started with a phone call from my mother. Nothing good can ever come from talking to her really -she's condescending, over pretentious, annoying, and hypocritical. My mother is the bane of my existence. The thorn in my side. A pain in my ass.

So talking to her while I'm trying to get ready for school is no fun trip -it's pretty much hell. If I say something -that in her mind- is disrespectful or rude I have to expect her to show up at the house -which sucks because then I have to actually clean and spray it with air freshener it so it doesn't reek of nicotine. She'll still find something off about it and will yell at me and threaten to disconnect the cable or something.

Really, it's a whole affair that I don't want to get into.

So, I grit my teeth and bear it; hold my tongue when it wants to lash out and point out just how stupid she is. I feel like I got my intelligence from my father -a man who committed suicide when I was a very small child because of this woman; or at least that's why I'd like to believe he's not around anymore.

When I finally dragged myself on the bus -running late because my mother will not shut up- I collapse into my seat, almost grateful for school - and that's saying something. I haven't had my usual morning smoke, so I'm irritable, and the phone call from mother has left me more than a little annoyed -not a good combination, to say the least.

I should have known that today was going to be a bad day when Peace sat down next to me and gave me the look that he's been giving me the last week -one that I really don't have a name for. He looks almost constipated, and more than a little curious.

My glare should have kept him away, but it didn't because, for some strange reason, Pyro is immune to it. Damn him and his red thermals too.

I still don't know his first name -and it bothers me more than it should.

When I get to Sky High I immediately go for the smoke that I missed that morning, because otherwise I'll never make it through the day.

I wouldn't have, really.

I'm late to first hour and the teacher yells at me and I have to refrain from strangling him to death by pure power of will- call it lack of sociably acceptable behavior if you will.

Then, in Mad Science, a kid misfired his freeze ray and hit me in the ass -quite deliberately I assure you- and I caused him to run screaming from the room in my spark of rage -which really had only lasted a second, and Medulla shouldn't have been _that_ mad.

But, maybe that's my powers controlling me in the madness and insanity that just might overtake me one day.

Whatever.

So, for using my power outside of the gym, I got detention. I really don't think this qualifies as punishment at all -I had a book and my music and a room in which my soul crushing powers don't work. What's not to like?

So, I make myself comfortable and am just getting to my favourite part of my book when someone comes in.

Guess who?

Pyro Peace.

Ugh.

Yeah, are you starting to see where this is going? No? Well, if I would have guessed I would have just launched myself off the school. Seriously.

Thankfully he ignores me and I ignore his until Powers comes in and tells us to go to lunch giving me a look that says 'we'll talk about this later' before I left.

I wish I would have stayed in that nice little room, mostly because I tripped on the frame when a premonition slammed into me and Peace -compelled by some unknown force- caught me by the arm.

Because I had been talking to my mother on the phone this morning I was wearing a t-shirt, too irritated at the time to remember to wear long sleeves.

That means physical contact was made.

There's a reason that I have a thing against physical contact.

My initial premonition fell away and I had just enough time to jerk away from Peace as Powers walked out of the detention room to see the contact break before something far more dangerous swept over me.

The last thing I remember before I lost all consciousness from the real world was the Powers yelling for Peace to go get help and my own screams of tortured pain as I fell to the ground.

Here's the thing about physical contact and people who get premonitions -it's a bad thing. The first contact triggers something about the item or the person that's important and, on most occasions, unpleasant. When touching people, I see their death. Only, I don't only see- no that would be far too simple and easy. No, I _experience _their death -however long is significant. Their pain is my pain. Their hopelessness is my hopelessness. Their fear -and this is the most prevalent, because it's me, honestly- is my fear.

So as the dim hallway of Sky High faded out of my sight and the pain- blinding, burning, hateful, malicious, and all consuming- started, I expected to witness Peace's death.

Only I wouldn't.

Which was not only disconcerting, mildly confusing, surprising, and uncommon, it was also awful. Because, I still saw someone die.

Someone I never expected to see die.

Me.

Yeah, not the most pleasant thing in the world, seeing your own death.

It started with fire -which I found discouraging, but perhaps I'm being a bit biased. It _was _Peace who triggered the vision -so fire must be an obvious staple, but I digress.

Buildings were on fire and people were screaming -because, well, people panic and people scream. They were running around and away from the towering flames and I was headed into a building that I didn't recognize -it was an out of body experience, watching myself, but feeling my pain. I was bleeding, but I couldn't tell from where, just that I was stained with it -obviously not someone else's giving the amount that it _hurt_. I was burning. The city was burning. The world was burning.

Ashes danced in the air like dust motes as I tore across the building, searching.

Smoke filled my lungs and I couldn't breath -but I still sprinted through the building, undeterred by the falling ceilings and breaking stairs and the fact that _I was dying._

Fire, burning, pain, pain, fire, burning, looking, searching, smoke, coughing, bleeding, pain, fire, burning, tears.

The last action caught my attention through the pain -that dense and ever present corruption on my actual body and not my vision-body.

What exactly compelled me to enter this building?

I'm honestly surprised I hadn't asked myself this question earlier -mind you the pain did hold most of my attention. But, now, looking back it did seem rather important -after all, this would be my end, and I obviously know it, given the premonition that I am currently experiencing, so what goddamn it, is more important to me than…well, me?

What was I looking for?

Turns out I was to find out on the roof -a _brilliant _place to be when the building_ is on fire. _

It's almost encouraging that I can still be sarcastic in this much pain.

The structure was shifting under my feet and the flames were scorching my flesh and there he was.

Turns out -not a what. I was looking for a who.

I thought, for just a second that maybe I wasn't going to die after all in this little scenario, because it was Peace.

But, no. I still die. Damn.

He was fighting with someone -I couldn't tell you who, the pain was far too much for me to concentrate as I collapsed on the roof my named yelled on the air; not by myself mind you.

The last part of my vision that I remember before that last and final scream-educing- back-arching-spasming blow of pain and the sweet black void that followed was the roof collapsing from underneath my crumpled form.

Yeah, no way in hell I'm surviving _that_.

-

I woke up in the nurses office -which is the seemingly logical place for someone who has just gone through what I've been through to be, though personally I believe that a mental hospital would be more appropriate at this given point in time because my head is throbbing and my scalp is aching - no I don't know why- and I just want to not remember this. Like, at all. Please erase this from my memory forever. Now.

The first thing that I'm aware of is that stupid crinkly paper that they put on the beds to keep them clean or whatever. The next thing I'm aware of is my pain. My head aching -which is normal after such encounters; of which there have been a few, unfortunately. My scalp hurts -I suspect hair pulling agony. My lip is split and my body aches from the thrashing pain -nothing unusual.

What is unusual? Peace is sitting in the chair by the counter and cabinets. The nurse? Not present.

Does this seem off to you to? Like a bad slasher film plot?

Yeah, I'm with you on that one.

"Go away, Pyro. I've had enough of you for one day. Thank you very fucking much." I roll over so my back is to him, but this only causes me extreme discomfort for reasons I don't know as I grunt in pain. It's like the whole world is ganging up to kill me _through_ me -a sad and pathetic view that perhaps makes me seem more narcissistic than I truly am, but whatever, my neural synapses aren't working very well right now, thank you very much.

"You're not supposed to move." He explained, as if I was some sort of mentally handicapped person and incapable of figuring this out. Which I had, and acknowledged -via grunt mind you; so you would think Peace of all people would have figured this out, after all, he speaks fluent caveman.

"Fuck you. I told you to go away." I really, really want him to go away because -frankly- no one wants to be near someone that causes -however indirectly- their death; which I'm still trying to forget.

Not succeeding, by the way.

Peace was silent, but he didn't move and soon, his very presence irritated me so much that I rolled off of the table -bed?- and stormed for the door -ignoring the way the world blurred at the edges of my vision and wobbled precariously.

"Hey!" He yelled while I pointedly ignored him and wrenched the door open. I was still gathering my bearings -and admittedly, my dignity- as I stormed down the hallway, limping and wincing all the while.

Peace followed.

The destination you ask?

Power's office.

I'm going to get cuffed -or at least get a restraining order on Peace. Whatever comes first.


	14. Even If That Would Be Niffty

**Sorry for the wait.**

**I don't own Sky High.**

* * *

I shoved open the door to her office without knocking -barging in with an angry pyro on my heels.

"Go away!" I shouted at him for what seemed like the hundredth time, but he _still_ didn't listen. Stupid pyro, I'm going to kill you someday so that I don't die on a roof near you.

I shook my head slightly to dislodge the memory of my demise -still working on forgetting that by the way. Still not working so well, in case you were wondering.

"Miss. Nelson? Mr. Peace?" Powers looked up from her desk and all her papers, confused. She pulled her reading glasses off studiously. "Charlie, aren't you supposed to be lying down? You must not be feeling well after-"

One glance at Peace and Power's jaw snapped shut so hard that I could hear her teeth clamp shut. Instead of questioning me she stood up and pointed to the couch in a way that made me think she was angry. Which only made _me_ angrier.

How dare she get angry with me after what happened! Certainly wasn't _my_ fault.

I flopped down on the couch unceremoniously and the edges of my vision rattled, only to right itself a little after a second.

"What's going on Powers?" Peace said through clenched teeth. "You told me to stay near Nelson, and she hasn't made that easy. Whatever happened has something to do with me, and I want to know what. Now."

Powers lost her menace for a second and I saw the unsure glance she gave us -perhaps wondering how to tell Peace that I saw his death, or perhaps worried about my sanity on the fact that I hadn't told him yet when it was obvious that I didn't enjoy his presence.

"Charlie-"

"I want to be cuffed. Nullified. Shot. Implantation chip installed in my frontal lobe. Shoved off a building. I don't care, Powers. Just make it all stop." I mumbled into the black cushion of the no doubt over priced sofa while trying to get the world to _stay still_ for just _four_ seconds. "Make it all stop."

"Charlie, why didn't you tell him? He has a right to know."

"About that…. He actually doesn't. Funny thing…he didn't die. Now, about that cuff-"

"What do you mean that I didn't die? What's going on here?" Peace was steaming in his anger. Whatever. I just wanted the walls to stop listing to the right.

Why the right? Why not the left?

I tilted my head in a new direction, but they still listed to the right, so I closed my eyes to make the listing stop altogether.

"Take it away Powers. I'll make the ceiling stay in place." I mumbled, holding really still and trying to do just that, even though my eyes were closed because I could feel the world moving -and it wasn't just the school.

"Oh dear, Charlie you probably have a concussion-" Powers began, moving towards me.

"I'm not concussed." I mumbled, but no one seemed to be interested in what I had to say at the moment.

" -from-" She tried to continue, only to be cut off again.

Peace interrupted her, smoking rolling for his coat sleeves. "Beating your head against the floor repeatedly. Yeah, we got it. She's fine. What's. Going. On?"

Powers sighed. "Miss Nelson is….psychic….among… other things."

"I see people die when I touch them for the first time. That's where that whole 'I have a thing against physical contact' started, because it basically sucks a major fatty cock to have to _experience _someone else's death."

"Miss Nelson!" Power's exclaimed.

"What?"

"Language!" She scolded.

Oops. Oh well. I can't be perfect all the time. Or any of it. Whatever.

"Can I get some pain medication for my massive migraine?" I slurred from my ball-o-pain on the too soft and too comfortable sofa. I swear the thing was like sitting of a feather -and not in a good way cause I felt like I was floating away. Which isn't enjoyable at all. "It's like the entire universe jammed itself inside my skull. Ugh."

"If you didn't see me die. What did you see?" Peace demanded.

"None of your goddamn business." I snapped, before changing my tone, " Powers, pills, please!" I practically begged.

Need medication. Ugh. Head throbbing, Peace induced, tumor developing. Possible brain damage. Metal damage -certainly. Emotion damage -let's not even go there right now.

"Fine. I'll get you some medication. Mr. Peace, stay here, Miss Nelson, stay on the couch, and please, don't kill each other while I'm gone." Powers sighed and left quickly -probably figuring out that the less time she was gone the less time we would have to kill each other.

I, personally, wasn't making any promises.

"Nelson, what did you see? I'm tired of asking. Tell me. Now."

"It's none of your business." I snapped.

"Yes. It. Is. I caused….whatever it is that was. It has to do with me. Tell me." He was starting to burn up again, and I wondered in the very small part of my brain that wasn't concerned with how much my head hurt- what exactly his breaking point was. How long could he contain his fire before he spontaneously combusted? Which led to wondering if it hurt to spontaneously combust.

I guess I'll find out one day.

"No." I said, half to myself and half to Peace.

"Yes." He growled.

"No."

"Can you stop acting like a child for just a minute and tell me!" I saw sparks dance across his palms -and I assure you, I wasn't completely lucid.

"Fine! I died! You happy? I saw myself die! Is that what you wanted to hear?" I yelled which caused my vision to blur and my head to do several impressively painful throbs- what do you expect, I've told you, I'm blunt to the point of harsh.

That sure as hell shut him up.

So I took his silence as a cue for me to try and disappear into the couch. I was starting to wonder if I laid still enough if the cushions could swallow me whole -the inky blackness taking away everything slowly. It seemed like a nice way to go. Death by too soft couch.

Too bad that wasn't how I died.

Damn.

Forget it.

Forget it.

Yep, I can't. Damn.

I'll blame Peace. Actually, it kind of is his fault. In more than one way I guess.

It was a long time before he spoke, and even then he sounded more than reluctant to break the silence.

"Why did you see that when you touched me?" He asked, not so angry now. Well serves him damn right to be in the wrong and know about it.

"Pfffttt. Like I know. I'm not omniscient- even if that would be nifty as hell."

Peace sighed.


	15. Acid, LSD, and Not Right

**Er, to warn you. This is trippy.**

**I don't own Sky High.**

* * *

I didn't go to Sky High the next day.

Or the day after.

Or the day after that.

In fact, I'd been stuck inside my mind so long, that I don't even know how long it'd been since the day that Peace had caught my arm to keep me from falling.

I knew that no matter what I did between now and the day that I die, that nothing will kill me -nothing.

The first day that I didn't go to school, I had slept and slept and cried and bathed and slept. I didn't eat, I didn't do anything substantial, just got trapped inside my head and the looping thoughts that I drowned in.

There's a finality in knowing when you're going to die. There isn't a freedom. There isn't a relief.

There's a suffrage and a despair, that tastes like stale nicotine and numbs you like Novocain.

The second day I called an old friend of mine and bought a few paychecks worth of drugs.

I lit up and floated in static and waves, trying to gain a calm that would never come and slow things down and stretch time out into forever. When that didn't work I rushed, trying to speed past everything, hoping somehow sanity would find me along the way.

Weed.

Then.

Speed.

Then.

Heroine.

Then.

Acid.

Then.

LSD.

They blurred and meshed together in swirling mass of static and tittering nerves and colors and feelings and premonitions and reality.

Nothing worked to make the world the way that I needed it to be. Nothing made everything straight and crisp but not too sharp. Nothing made it bright enough, or sane enough.

Nothing made me happy.

Nothing make me whole.

Nothing made it right.

I don't know how long I drifted though the clouds of drugs, or how many days that I ignored the calls, or what day that I cut into my skin and let my blood crust over my kitchen cabinets, or if that even happened at all, or if the sparkling black blood was only my imagination.

All that I know is that one day, or minute, or color, or feeling, a scream came and his sobs echoed my name around the empty house matching the pitch of my still beating heart. He wasn't supposed to come, ever, at all. I'd told him not to visit, not to be near me, because his skin had sent me pictures of his death, and of my face etched in shadows. And, if I wasn't near him, it wouldn't happen- I wouldn't have to watch my brother die.

His face cut the world into rainbows and my fingers felt like worms and my skin like a sponge. The world smelt like forget-me-not's and dirt and mistakes and promises. He says I whispered sorry and quotes on his skin when he held me and called for help, but I don't remember.

Pig isn't dumb and the sobs fell into the shouts of strangers and I felt like the world was tilting up from underneath me, and wondered if I was dying after all.

But, then again, when aren't we all dying?

The light was dark and death was sitting next to me, trapped in flames and whispering things about harmonicas and cult classics. The future mixed with reality and fiction and non fiction blended in a surrealist blur until I didn't know what was real and what wasn't.

Piano benches and old women playing cars with demons. A white wedding. A black mask. Christmas lights showing bloody children smiling a waving. Wedding rings in cigarette boxes. Faces melting into sand. Angels kissing the sky.

At some point, Pig was gone and the flag was wrapped around me. Red and blue and white and strong, and faces were there, alien and wrong. I wished my Pig was back, and that the world was the way that I needed it to be, and that the people would go away, and the fear would stop choking me.

I think they tried to tell me that I was alright.

"Know. Know. Know." I chanted. "Powers' will tell you. Fine. Fine. Fine."

Or, at least, that's what they tell me. I don't remember much.

I do remember seeing Peace, and his stupid red streaked hair, but I don't know if it was real.

I don't know if any of it was real, because at some point in time, the walls started dripping colors and feelings, and the room was full of angels who sounded like rain.

"Peace will kill me. This won't kill. I don't die. Don't die. Don't die. Not yet."

No one knew what I meant, but they remember it, because I never shut the hell up. The hospital footage has be babbling nonsense for a half and hour straight- talking about crosses and burning and conferences and bombings and villains escaping prisons and weddings and births and feelings and colors.

My powers went all haywire, obviously, and only supers would dare come close enough to me to help me because anyone who got within four feet of me ran screaming away. God help whoever got me to the hospital, because they must have gone though hell to do it.

They say that I'd been gone for four days.

That's four days on no food and water, and three on no sleep and nothing but drugs.

They don't know when I cut myself, and I don't really remember doing it, or if I do it's clouded up with the hundred other things that I saw.

When I'm conscious of my surroundings and sane enough to know the laws of the universe and what the hell is actually going on, they sit me down and tell me that I'm lucky to be alive.

"Lucky?" I ask.

"Yes." Says the obnoxious man in the flag outfit, with a cleft chin and self righteous air about him, next to Powers, who looks to pitying for my liking. I think I recognize him, but I don't know from where, and I don't spend too much time trying to figure it out, because it's still a little hard to focus.

"Well, then I guess you don't know luck when you see it." I muttered.

He tells me that I should value my life, and what a precious gift it is, and how I shouldn't just try to throw it away. Powers doesn't say anything, but stares at me in my hospital gown and cries like this is somehow all her fault. Which it might be, because if she would offered to cuff me the day that I went to her office -the day Peace caught me- then I might not be in this position.

"I'm dying." I tell him, but he doesn't believe me.

"No," I reassure him. "Every minute, I get closer to dying. So what's the point in having fate fuck with me? If I'm going to die, I'd like to do it on my terms, not on some godforsaken rooftop looking for someone that I don't want to find in the first place. I never fucking asked for this, you know. I never asked for powers, or the chance to save people. I never wanted to know the future, or how I was going to die. Do you want to know how you die Mr. Patriotism? Do you want to know every gory detail, and know that no matter what you do, it'll happen? Do you want me to tell you how your wife dies, or who kills your children?"

That shut him the hell up.

"Charlotte, you still have time left, you know. Don't throw it all away." Powers whispered. "Think of all the good you could do. Think of all the lives you could better, and the people you could save."

"Is there any good left in this world?" I asked, and left the room, dragging my fluids stand with me, knowing the answer was in my weak knees and my visions.


	16. Aftermath

**I don't own Sky High. I'm surprised I didn't delete this. **

* * *

The kept me in the psyche ward of the hospital and made me talk to a psychologist once a day for a week because of my 'suicide' attempt seemed like a cry for help. My psychologist, a thin and wane super, says that I could have easily gone insane. He talks to me about my powers, and I tell him to fuck off and cuff me. To say the least, we don't make much progress, especially when I taunt him about his fear of coming out of the closet. I don't mention his fear of not being able to help me, because no one can and the sooner he realizes this, the better.

I spend my days reading worn paperbacks the nurses offer me, and trying not to let my powers make me a monster.

But, I can feel it happening.

My three day drug trip wacked out my powers, and it's getting harder to control them. Fear circles my head and the littlest irritation has me wanting to lash out. I want to hurt people like I'm hurting. My premonitions are weird and disjointed and I can't make anything out of them.

I cry at night.

Normally it's easy to change my visions, because I can take an element out and they alter accordingly. But I know, no matter what I do, that this one -the one in which I die- won't falter.

Why, you ask?

Well, because I know what's going to happen when I go into that building. I could have not gone into it -could not go into it- but I _will_. Something will happen in my life, and I will think that finding Peace is more important than living.

I _hate_ that.

I hate it more when Peace comes to visit me.

I've just had my antidepressants given to me by my lovely, rotund black nurse and am trying to smother the erg to jump out the window- which I know wouldn't do anything but break my legs- when the sliding glass door opens. At first I think it's Powers, coming for her usual visit, but I should have known from the lack of clacking high heels that it wasn't.

"Go away Powers. I don't want to talk today." I mumbled into the fibers of my pillow. It smells like paper and starch and just like I think a coffin would -which is just about as comforting as it sounds. Plus, it crinkles every time I move.

"It's not Powers." He says, and I freeze. _Crinkle._

"Go away," I whisper, far too quite for him to hear. "Please, just… go away."

He steps into the room, footfalls heavy against linoleum, and I feel sick to my stomach.

He's standing at the foot of my bed and his fear is pressing against me so sharply I feel like my skin is turning inside out.

People shouldn't fear like this.

"I'm fine," I said to his worries. _Crinkle._ "Please stop. You're making me sick."

He raised a single eyebrow, but his fear dwindled down.

"What are you talking about?"

Another side effect of knowing when you're going to die -you lose your off switch. There is absolutely little to no filter nowadays. Not that I thought before I spoke before, but now, well…

"I'd hate to be as afraid as you are. Jesus, it's like walking through a fucking tornado."

His gaze is so intense that for just a minute I am thoroughly convinced he has x-ray vision.

_Crinkle._

He opens his mouth like he's going to ask me what I'm talking about, but it seems to click for him. I think, in that moment, he figures it out.

I hold up my hands, palms up, like I'm offering something, but they're empty and all I want to do is sleep.

"Go home," I tell him, and drop my hands to my lap.

He leaves.

* * *

My first day back to Sky High feels too normal to be real. Granted, there are still whispers about me. People are wondering where I've been. They stare at the fading bruise on the side of my face, but don't comment on the hospital bracelet on my wrist.

I'm required to wear it, and I couldn't take it off if I tried.

It's got a nullifier on the inside, pressing against my skin, along with a sensor that beeps when my powers start to act up too much. It doesn't make it all go away, but it makes them easier to control. They're working on a permanent one, but they probably won't give it to me, because my potential for good outweighs my risk factor, or something. They talked to me about it, but I hadn't listened.

I have the attention span of a goldfish and all I want to do is sleep. The best part? Every single teacher in the school lets me. Even Medulla.

It's easy to ignore the pity in their eyes if I don't look for it.

There's something I can't ignore though. Peace keeps giving me these fucking looks, like I'm about to snap and take over the world any second.

Which is probably why I do. Snap, that is, not take over the world.

It takes two weeks, but when it happens, well…

The kid is an idiot, even though he might be older than me. He's got this fucking smirk on his face when he shoves me in the cafeteria as he walks past.

Big mistake.

"Oops," he says, all sarcastic, looking me up and down, "Sorry, Nelson."

"Why don't you watch where you're fucking going?"

He says something to that, something that sparks my temper.

My bracelet starts beeping.

People are starting to stare.

"What the fuck is that, freak?" he smirks. And I get the weirdest fucking flashback. Suddenly it's six months ago and he's fucking Anderson, up in my face spitting idiocy everywhere and my rage is blotting you my vision.

Only this time, I know how to use my powers. This time, it's not an accident.

The beeping speeds up, and my eyes go black.

This isn't Save the Citizen. I'm not neutralizing shit.

The room starts shaking.

"Nelson," Peace says. "Don't."

I turn to look at him, and snakes start slithering out from under the tables, poisonous and hissing. "Can't stop now. Too late."

"Will," he says, turning to Flyboy, "Go get Powers."

"Why-"

"Just do it!" he shouts, and Flyboy takes off.

By now the kid is whimpering, backing away from the snakes.

My bracelet turns into one continuous beep.

That's when the nightmares creep out of the shadows, and the lights start to flicker. The monsters are drawn out of the crevices of his mind. Things like half-remembered childhood scares, things that harbored in his subconscious and festered like an infection.

He starts to scream, and so does everyone else.

And that's when everyone starts to be very afraid of me, and it fuels my powers in a vicious cycle, and I couldn't stop if I tried. A whirlwind is going through the cafeteria, shrieking and howling, sucking their screams around, with me at the vortex.

My muscles are whip-lock tight and I'm trembling from all the raw energy coursing through me. These things aren't real, but they're real enough.

I'm starting to loose track of who's fears I'm using when the school starts to drop, falling from the sky, and Powers crashes into the cafeteria with Flyboy, Medulla, and Boomer on her heels.

And then my power finds it, the one person in the room who's greatest fear is fear itself.

Then everything goes to hell.


End file.
